You don’t really need solitude to write. It can be done amid the hustle and bustle of life. Just ask Chughtai or Manto

Ever since I came out with my debut novel, Nobody Killed Her, I have been regularly assaulted with two questions. The first, in Pakistan at least, is that, being a woman, why (or rather how dare) I write about politics. And the second is almost always about how, being a mother of two and a full time professional, did I find the time and space to write a book?

Both the questions make me laugh, for writing for me is a not some mystical activity. It is not a punishment that requires solitary confinement, but an act of celebration. I write amid crowded libraries or bustling coffee houses aka JK Rowling-style, for the din of the crowd takes the fear of the blank page away — for me at least. Writing amid people makes it less daunting, less life threatening, and the immersion or connection I feel with what I want to write is just as deep when I’m among people as it would be if I were writing locked away in a room — a luxury I simply can’t afford.

So does that mean Virginia Woolf in her classic text ‘Room of One’s Own’ was wrong when she advocated that a separate space should be available for women to write? I agree with the second of her doctrines about a woman needing to be financially independent, but I’m not too sure about the ‘room of one’s own’ bit, as for me the room has to be in one’s mind. It is mental space I crave, not physical. And that is provided when you have the financial independence to delegate the boring rituals of everyday life like dishwashing, sweeping, etc, which bogged down the women of an older generation and prevented them from exercising their artistic imagination in its entirety. And in the end, isn’t that what it boils down to — ‘artistic imagination’? There is no guard over dreaming. No watch over imagining or envisioning scenes, or even entire stories in our minds, irrespective of whether it is in a locked room or an open space. And so, perhaps, in this modern age of dishwashers and Twitter, Shakespeare could have been a woman.

But even as I write this, I am conscious that I am a minority in not thinking of writing as some extraordinary feat that can only be achieved through uninterrupted immersion in an undisturbed space. For, how many times have we heard the expression, ‘Writing is a lonely activity’?

A lot of people have a (mis) perception about writers being nocturnal creatures, wallowing in their own solitude, as they indulge in the near mystical act of creativity. That’s mostly because that is the kind of image that is associated with classical writers such as Twain, or Woolf, who wrote in a shed at the bottom of her garden, or Bergman, who could only write his screenplays when tucked away in the island of Fargo in complete solitude, or even our very own Nadeem Aslam, who writes at night and sleeps during daytime. Solitude, for these writers, is the fuel to creativity.

But I beg to differ. The portrait of a lonely writer is not the perception of an artist, but the stereotype of an artist. These solitary creators are not writers, but privileged people who can afford to indulge in such selfabsorption. Not all of us have the luxury to be full time writers. I, for example, write in stolen moments between my job, and kids, and commute, and housework. And I take pride in the fact that here in the sub-continent we come from a long tradition of writers, who wrote amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life. Manto wrote in his editor’s office or at home, one leg swung over a chair as his daughters played around him. Chughtai wrote on a takht in the hallway as life bristled about her. Rashid Jehan wrote in between her patients at her medical practice. AR Khatoon wrote at the kitchen table amidst her cooking pots and toddlers crawling at her feet. And the fact that these writers are still widely read shows that their work has stood the test of time.

This makes me wonder why a lot of work, in contemporary times at least, which gathers literary acclaim (and dust), is often written by highbrow writers who fit the stereotype of the tortured artist, usually found behind closed doors. On the other hand, a lot of prose that is accessible and just as widely read (and sells) is created by authors who are less guarded or private about their creative process. In short, take themselves less seriously! I, for one, don’t think it makes their work shallow. In fact, it gives it ‘realism’. For, look at the works of Manto and Chughtai — they are laced with the zesty flavours of everyday life. They were written among the people, and they are about the people.

— Sabyn Javeri is the author of bestselling political thriller, Nobody Killed Her, published by Harper Collins India

█ A lot of people have a (mis)perception about writers being nocturnal creatures, wallowing in their own solitude, as they indulge in the near mystical act of creativity

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